


La Petit Mort

by gaysquared



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Flogging, Fluff takes a while though, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Jellal has PTSD, Jellal is a masochist, Jellal's new independent guild, M/M, Masochism, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Sadism, Some dark themes, Spanking, Tags May Change, and a surprisingly bossy sub bc it's Jellal, dom Erik/Cobra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysquared/pseuds/gaysquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jellal has formed his new Guild for repentance; but he still desires some punishment to atone for his sins.</p><p>//ABANDONED— NO LONGER UPDATING</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this all started when I was reading about Jellal forming his own Guild, which he says is for repentance and stuff, but at one point I guess he's talking to Meredy and he says it's a Guild for punishment? And I was just like?? Jellal did you just accidentally form a bdsm guild? Like don't put what you just said on the wall, people are gonna get real confused. And then I kept thinking about it, and Jellal seems like a masochist, right? Well,  
> I decided for you. Here you go. (Smut in second chapter).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: Edited Chapter 1 to give an explanation as to why they're on their own, staying in a motel without the rest of the Guild.

It starts with a conversation; which on its own isn't entirely odd, given Erik had heard these things are supposed to start with a conversation. But it's just this particular conversation is so overwhelmingly surreal and absolutely not how he would imagine this going, ever, if he ever thought to imagine it in the first place. 

The rest of the Guild are working on an infiltration of a local dark guild; with Ultear in the wind, Erik and Jellal had been on standby for almost a week now. They were not supposed to intervene unless Erik heard anything going on; they'd been inhabiting a local motel, waiting for bits of intel from their guildmates, which hadn't been easy to come by. 

"You want me to what?" Erik says, nearly choking on his own spit, hoping his eyes aren't actually bulging right out of his head like he thinks they are. 

"It's a simple concept, really," Jellal says, scowling, like Erik's just not keeping up. "It's punishment; should be fairly easy for you to understand."

Erik huffs indignantly. "No, the whole punishing thing is the part I think I get; the whole you wanting it to be me thing is what I'm more stuck on."

Jellal takes a moment to look faintly surprised, then shrugs. "Anybody else I would consider would simply be too compassionate towards me to carry out the punishment."

"Thanks...?" Erik says, affronted. It doesn't exactly sound like a compliment. 

"Well, that and I'm inpatient, and the only other one of us not on infiltration is Richard." A pause. "But it's a good thing, you, I mean," Jellal insists. "It's what's needed in this situation. If you agree, that is."

"You just want me to--" Erik blinks. "I don't know, hit you?"

Jellal sniffs. "It's my own repentance, alright? At the current moment, I don't have much of another way to atone for what I've done." He pauses, looking down to study the floor. "Flogging, most likely. It would be most similar to my experiences as a slave, which seems an appropriate form of repentance."

"How do you know I'm not gonna hurt you?" Erik asks, thinking about an arena in which all bets are off, without magic incorporated; it would just be his wide-set body and flat, calloused palms. 

"Safewords, right," Jellal says, as if he's explaining this to a child. "Green for keep going; yellow for slow down; red for stop now."

"I mean..." Erik trails off, still feeling slightly lost. "If that's what you want." 

"It is," Jellal nods. He purses his lips, thinking. "I would most likely need to be naked, for the humiliation, as further punishment. If that bothers you, tell me."

Erik doesn't think it particularly bothers him, no; nudity is nudity. There's nothing inherently odd about it. It's simply when you're pairing it with a particularly confusing brand of masochism that it seems to skip right past appropriate and into erotic, or at least, inappropriate. 

This was certainly not what he had expected when he had agreed to join Jellal's special little Guild. Repentance, he'd said, but this was something altogether. What are you supposed to do when your Guild leader is asking you to punish him, anyways? Is this even a situation people have been in before? 

It's silly to worry about it, he supposes. Because Jellal still levels him with that stare of his and asks, "So?"

And Erik, rather beyond himself, hears himself reply, "Alright. Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but it's just a set up; also, you get porn next chapter, anyways. Also I watched both seasons of K project today and cried a lot lmao


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm so porn already? Yep. Starts out pretty methodical and then I just kinda went "what the hell" and got smutty bc I can't not.

Jellal instructs him how to properly whip a flogger, with the flick of a wrist; how to tie ropes and restraints, and no slip-knots, he says; where to hit, to aim for the fattier chunks of flesh and avoid the tailbone. 

He instructs Erik to come to his rooms at a certain point in the night, and Erik agrees, not entirely sure he has a way to refuse at this point, anyways. If he feels ill-prepared, it's only because his fill-in lesson lasted not much more than half-an-hour. 

He comes that night, as instructed, and Jellal answers the door, already having removed his coat and boots. 

"Thank you," he says politely, and moves into the room, beginning to strip, efficient as always. He folds the clothes neatly into a pile on the floor, which Erik silently questions before he remembers what years of living in captivity does to you. You never let go of some habits. 

"Alright," Jellal says, seemingly completely undisturbed by his own nudity, which actually helps Erik to relax a little. Jellal nods to him, as if trying to infuse him with confidence, and hands him the flogger, which has been resting on his desk. The handle is made of thick, deep-brown leather, wrapped intricately to better his grip. The leather strips extending from the handle have knots tied in them at certain intervals, looking like beads woven into dark hair. He almost wants to ask Jellal exactly where in the hell he got this, but resists. 

The other man nods again, points to the rope, oddly silent, and bends himself over his desk. Erik avoids looking at the things hanging between his legs, because it does, even here, feel inappropriate. Even more, he avoids looking at the white, stripped and ripped scars criss-crossing Jellal's back. He moves to tie Jellal's hands, careful, twisting the rope around as Jellal reminds him, "Not too loose, it'll only cause chaffing."

He listens. When he's done, he steps back, as if to admire his work. It certainly isn't a bad sight, if you're into that sort of thing. He's still trying to figure out whether he is or not, really. 

"How many strokes?" he asks, still holding the flogger gingerly. "Seis?" he says, joking. 

Jellal isn't amused. "Seven," he says, sounding commanding even when he's bent over his own desk. "The holy number," he adds quietly, almost a whisper. 

Erik nods, adjusting; and steadies himself. Just a quick flick of the wrist, not too hard. Easy. He gives his first try, and although it leaves temporary dots of red on Jellal's ass, he's still chastised. 

"You can do better than that, Erik," he says, voice gruff, a smirk present in his voice.

That annoys him, but he breathes, controlled, regaining composure. A harder flick this time, enough to leave raised streaks behind that begin to turn white. Jellal actually gasps, voice slightly muffled, his body stiffening. 

"That's better," he says, swallowing. Erik suppresses a grin. Five more to go. 

"Color?" he asks. 

"Green," is the immediate reply. 

Alright then. A breath. He raises his arm; another lash. Jellal's body jumps, and the streaks on his ass have begun to turn pink against the newer, white ones. Jellal whispers something Erik can't understand; he assumes he mishears. 

Erik allows Jellal a breath; they're already several minutes in, he sees, checking the time. He ought to take his time, if this is supposed to represent something real to Jellal. 

A few moments. Jellal seems to steady, his breathing descending back to normal, and Erik says, "Number four."

This one is a bit harder than the others; perhaps he's getting overconfident. Jellal seethes out loud in pain, body taught; the streaks on his ass are darker now, almost red, angry. He begins to whisper to himself; Erik notices that his eyes are closed. With his hands clenched the way they are, it looks almost as if he's praying. 

"Color?" he asks, suddenly realizing he's out of breath. 

"Green, fuck, green," Jellal chokes out. Erik suddenly wishes he could be hitting Jellal directly, with his palm; the skin to skin contact sounds appealing. Still, he finds, rather disturbingly, that he is enjoying himself. Oh well. Number five it is. 

Another lash, this one hard as the last, and Jellal squirms against the desk. He's breathing heavy, labored, but he continues to whisper under his breath, and Erik wishes he could understand what he's saying, but he has a job to finish. Jellal will just have to keep up. 

Number six; this one ever so slightly softer than the last two, as if to give the man a break before his final lash. Jellal groans, his head knocking onto the desk; Erik sees his legs are shaking. His whole backside is tanned now, accentuating the contrasting dark and light lines across his ass. Erik listens quietly to the whispers immediately afterwards, attentive now, and thinks he actually hears the word, "please."

They're about to be done anyway, he almost wants to comfort. But this is not about comfort. He breathes, extends his arm. Number seven. 

This one is the hardest of all, and Jellal jerks hard against the desk, crying out in pain, and Erik pauses. He's never heard that sound from the man before. A few of the raised welts are bleeding, although only feebly, simply having grazed the skin. He wonders if he's pushed him too far, Jellal still squirming against the table, his wrists pulling in their constraints. But then--

"I apologize," Jellal says, still unsteady. "I--" a breath, heavy. "I seem to have become aroused."

Erik blinks. Oh. 

"I can--" he starts. "I can take care of that for you, if you want."

Jellal puffs out air. "That's not necessary," he insists, although he's still squirming against the desk. 

"It's my fault, anyways," Erik says, trying his hand at logic. He steps forward, until he's up against Jellal from behind, and reaches a hand around his hip, waiting. 

"Erik, really," Jellal tries. 

"Red?" Erik asks. A silent moment; Jellal swallows. 

"Green," he admits, looking back at Erik and licking his lips. Erik obeys the permission he's given. 

He wraps a hand tentatively around Jellal's cock, having dropped the flogger right onto the floor; the man is warm and heavy in his hand, leaking. It's slightly delicious in a terribly perverted way; Erik chalks this up to it being the arousal itself he finds arousing, not necessarily Jellal. Sexuality is sexuality. 

He strokes him lightly, as if to apologize for his earlier rough treatment, but Jellal seems to have been already straddling the edge. He shakes against the desk, panting with each pass of Erik's calloused hand. 

"Please," he grunts quietly. Erik finds himself undeniably amused. He strokes him rougher, faster, Jellal panting, flushed, into the wood of the table. He pushes into Erik's hand ever-so-slightly, but Erik feels it, and is further amused. 

He works his palm over the head of the man's cock, and Jellal groans loud, hips canting, and Erik licks his lips. "You can come, you know," he says, intending to be teasing. 

Jellal chokes, hovering, and tenses. "Yes, yessir," he grunts out, coming all over Erik's hand, spasming hard. 

Erik blinks slowly. "Sir." He said, "sir." 

Jellal's breathing slows, growing slightly more steady, when the man pants out, "You're hard."

Erik looks down. That he is; he's pushing against the fabric of his trousers. 

"Seems to be a common problem tonight," Jellal puffs out, almost laughing. "Well, Erik," he says slowly. "For all your hard work, I suppose a reward is in order." A pause. "You could use my thighs, if you like."

Erik's brain blanks out at that. "I--"

"It's alright," Jellal says, still a bit breathless. "I really don't mind. It's only fair."

"I don't--"

"Color?" Jellal asks. Fuck. 

"Green," he answers. Green as all fucking hell. 

"Okay, then," Jellal replies, side of his face still pressed into the wooden desk. 

Erik pauses, then steels himself. "Um..." He removes his dirtied hand from between Jellal's legs, and coats his thighs with the spend. His heart beats wildly in his chest as he pulls his cock out of his trousers, and lines himself up. He slips between Jellal's thighs easily. It's slippery and warm as Jellal presses his knees together to create a tighter space for him. The image itself is almost too much, and he thrusts, the entire situation too surreal, figuring he might as well give in. Another thrust, and fuck it, he's doing this, isn't he? 

Jellal's calm and pliant beneath him, but he remembers those reactions from just moments ago. He's biting his lip at the tight heat between Jellal's thighs, rocking into Jellal so hard he bumps into the desk. Suddenly he's imagining fucking Jellal for real against his desk, hard and punishing, scattering papers and all the neatness Jelall clung to until he came all over the underside of the table, untouched. 

"Shit," he whispers, and he's coming, fuck, and he uses his hand to catch his come, not wanting to actually debauch the underside of Jellal's table; not without permission. He slows, growling out, and tries his hardest not to slump against Jellal's sweaty back as he takes a step backwards. 

The man's ass has been rubbed even more raw by Erik thrusting against him into the desk, and guilt strikes him. A sigh from the still restrained man. 

"Well," he says. "That was certainly adequate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter is aftercare/talking/minimal awkwardness, and then we should be back to smutty things the chapter after that. Please comment and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short af but I'm lazy and you just need a lot of motivation to write hardcore porn, guys

He cleans Jellal off with a wet towel, heats tea on the stove; Jellal sighs and stands, rubbing his sore wrists. Jellal lies stomach-down on the bed while Erik prepares a bath. He waits for Jellal to get out, afterwards; it's in his gut. He doesn't feel like he's supposed to leave yet; maybe it's just because it kind of feels like his world has been turned upside down. 

When Jellal exits the bathroom, he has the tea waiting, and Jellal thanks him, wet hair plastered to his forehead, his thin body wrapped in a white towel. 

"I thought you'd be gone already," Jellal says, although there's no bitterness in it. He seems truly surprised. 

Erik shrugs. "Didn't seem right."

Jellal smiles slightly. "Well, you've got good instincts for being a Dom, I suppose." He swallows a sip of tea. "Have you felt any drop in mood?"

Erik blinks. "Ah, no. Why?"

"The high, all the endorphins. The drop can get to anybody." Jellal takes another sip of tea, breathing deep. "I would like to thank you, for coming and all."

There's a beat of silence. 

"Well, I mean; for performing that task." Jellal makes a 'tch' noise in the back of his throat, looking slightly perturbed at the joke he wandered into. "Anyways. I do think I would like to do it again. How would you feel about that?"

Erik shrugs. He thinks he probably wouldn't mind at all doing something like that again, the question is whether or not it's a good idea when it comes to doing it with someone who's his Guild-leader. 

"It's okay, either way," Jellal assures. "And if a sexual component makes it easier for you to perform, I'm perfectly comfortable with that."

Erik looks up from his hands; he didn't realize he'd been looking down. "You say it like you're simply putting up with me."

"Not at all," Jellal corrects, waving his hand slightly. "I'm sure I would physically enjoy it. It's just not my ultimate goal in this situation. But if it makes you feel more comfortable, it makes sense to include it."

"Oh," Erik mumbles. "I--" he pauses. "Alright, I suppose it's fine. I would like... To go slowly, with the punishment, that is. I'm on a learning curve, here."

"Of course," Jellal smiles. "I wouldn't leave you in the dark on that. It'd be dangerous for both of us. While my sanity may be questionable, things must be safe and consensual as possible, yes?"

Erik's not quite sure what to say to that. 

Jellal drinks down the final dregs of his tea. He seems almost like he's glowing; no drop there, it seems. It's like he's radiating energy; like he's purged all impurities. 

"Well," the man says. "I'll be getting some rest." He moves to stand. "Thank you again, Erik." A small smile. "I hope you don't mind if we go again in a week?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that Jellal's been into this stuff long enough to know how to avoid a drop pretty well; not that it always works, but I'm imagining the previous scene was still pretty lowkeye for him?? Erik might end up experiencing a top drop in a few chapters, though, bc we've all been there. 
> 
> Subspace Jellal is the best Jellal and??? That's one of the reasons I think I might actually be able to motivate myself through this. Like 10/10 when he has his guard down Jellal can drop into subspace fucking fast and go from normal conversation to "yes, master" in about two seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More mcFucking™
> 
> Let's see; paddling, orgasm delay/denial, bondage, the usual negotiation, a dash of fluff, and some dom drop in this chapter.

Approximately a week later, Erik informs Jellal and Richard that he's heard that Sawyer, Macbeth and Sorano have so far effectively infiltrated this dark guild. Erik stops by Jellal's room first, something anxious roiling in his stomach.

"That's good," Jellal says, nodding. "I suppose we'll just have to wait for more intel now."

Erik shifts on his feet, feeling awkward.

Jellal blinks; he can see the tension in Erik's frame with ease. "What is it?"

"Uh," Erik pauses. "It's been about a week since our; I don't know, uh, scene? And you said, you wanted--"

"Oh, yes," Jellal says, nodding his head. "Sorry, I was waiting to see if you wanted to continue. I figured I would just forget about it if you didn't make it clear you intended to do so." He tilts his head, as if thinking.

"What?" Erik inquires, leaning in slightly.

"Well, I wanted to thank you again," Jellal says. "If it's alright with you, I wanted you to be able to pick what we do this week. As a sort of reward."

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to be giving the rewards," Erik jokes, smile cracking open. "But, uh--" he sighs. "I really wouldn't know what I would want..."

To a certain an extent, he can think of some things he wants, but... None of those seem... appropriate? He's not sure.

Jellal shrugs. "Of course, I'd be willing to give you some ideas. Let's start at the basics. Do you want to use the flogger again?"

Erik bites his lip, unsure. "Uh, I don't know. I liked the--"

 _'I liked hitting you;'_ is that even a thing you can say?

"I liked the punishment, but maybe there's something else we could use to mix it up?" he finishes, feeling somewhat successful in not completely embarrassing himself.

"We could use a paddle," Jellal suggests. His frame is relaxed; this conversation is no feat to him at all. "Similar technique, but the effect is a little different, of course."

Erik nods. He does think he would like that. "Okay. Yeah, I like that."

"Are you alright with bondage again?" Jellal asks, face open and waiting, and Erik nods at this too. "Alright. Anything else specific you want?"

Nothing Erik wants to mention, or can even articulate. So he just shakes his head.

"Okay." Jellal gives a small smile. "Come by tonight? So I'll have time to get ready."

"Of course," Erik says, breath hard in his throat, and gives Jellal a nod. "Uh; see you later."  
______________

He stops by Richard's room after this encounter to inform the larger man of the new intel, then retires to his room to nap. He hasn't quite known what to do with himself besides, quite literally, keeping his ears open.

Besides this, he's left to simply think, which has never been a thing he actively enjoys; he's a visceral person; not doing anything at all feels plain wrong. It makes anxiety worm under his skin and tightens his chest.

He wakes from a rather restless sleep at sunset; and gathers enough energy to make himself presentable to go "visit" Jellal.

Once again, the man is already waiting for him, although this time he doesn't immediately strip naked, which Erik admits can be a little intimidating.

"I'm glad you came by," he says, leading Erik into the room. He turns to face him. "Alright. I forgot to ask, uh; where you wanted to. You know."

"Could we do the bed this time?" Erik asks just a little too quickly. "Uh; if it's alright with you."

"I suppose that's fine," Jellal shrugs. He's laid a rope and a paddle out on the table, and he picks them up to carry them with him to the bedroom. Erik follows Jellal in, feeling like a sort of trespasser.

Jellal dumps the rope and paddle on the bed, and again turns to Erik. "So. How did you want me?"

 _'In every way you'd let me have you,'_ Erik thinks, but he stubbornly pushes that thought out of his head. He takes a moment to think of an appropriate solution, cocking his head. "I could-- tie you to the bedposts, if you liked."

"I'd be alright with that," Jellal nods. "Is it alright if I--?" He gestures to his clothes, and Erik sucks in a breath.

"Uh, yeah," he croaks. "'Course."

Jellal begins unbuttoning his shirt, and Erik finds himself looking away out of instinct. He hears Jellal shuck his pants down before he sees them hit the floor; closely followed by underwear.

Erik blinks up to see the scars he hadn't gotten a closer look at before; so many of them, some light and striped across Jellal's ribs, one gnarled around the curve of his hip; and the lashes on his back Erik can't see at the moment, of course.  
Jellal seems to see him looking, and gives him an amused smile.

The man pulls another length of rope out from under the bed, setting it over the covers. He begins to climb up, back facing Erik, and Erik chokes on words in his throat.

"Could I maybe-- Uh, actually;" he swallows. "Have you the other way around? So I can; I don't know; I think I want to see your face."

Jellal pauses; turns, with a surprising amount of grace on his knees. "Okay. I can see why that'd be... stabilizing. It would be harder to hit me, though, of course."

Erik nods, breathing out heavily. "I could-- I could hit your thighs, I guess."

Jellal tilts his head at this. "That could work." He sits back on his heels. "Tied to the headboard, right?"

Erik nods, moving forward as if summoned, to grab the first length of rope. Jellal holds out his wrist so Erik can wrap around and around and tie until Jellal's arm lies comfortably slack against the headboard. Erik moves on to the other wrist, heart beating hard in his chest; and nothing's even happened yet.

He kicks off his shoes and sits back in the bed, as if to admire his handiwork, but his eyes are tracing lines down the curve of Jellal's arms, down to the gentle swell of his chest, the crooked cave of his neck.

"Are you ready to get started?" Jellal asks gently, and Erik feels a little silly; he should probably be the one asking Jellal that. He nods, picking up the paddle; it feels wooden, but it's coated with black leather.

"How many?" Erik asks, breath caught in his throat.

"As many as you like," Jellal says. "I can handle the paddling a little easier, so I'll let you know when to stop if I need to."

Erik grips the paddle, preparing himself, and Jellal gives him an affirmative look when Erik glances at him. Mechanically, hitting with it must be a little different than the flogger; Erik crawls forward to get closer, Jellal's thighs tucked up against his body. His cock sits, curved and flaccid, against his stomach.

Erik takes a carefully steadied hand and pushes softly on Jellal's knee. "Can you open your legs?" He croaks.

Jellal's legs fall open on command enough to allow Erik space. Erik swallows, suddenly feeling hot, and tears off his shirt quickly. He murmurs about the heat as an explanation, but Jellal doesn't appear the mind.

He tries a couple taps out on Jellal's thighs first, to get the feel of the paddle itself. Steadying himself, he breathes slowly, and lands the first true blow on the inside of Jellal's thigh. The man's body stiffens, and he breathes hard through his nose.

"A bit harder, please," Jellal whispers, eyes going dark, and Erik obeys. He hits the other thigh, harder this time, and watches red spring up from under where the board hits. Jellal's back arches, but he retains as much composure as one can while bound and naked. What a truly Jellal thing, Erik thinks.

He swats the other thigh twice in a row, and Jellal jerks back, legs falling apart further.

"More," Jellal says quietly, breathing going unsteady, and Erik feels half-drunk.

He hits him hard across both thighs, and Jellal yelps; Erik looks down to see the man's cock has gone pink, starting to fill. He tries not to focus on that, hitting harder and harder as Jellal begins to make noise, gasping in pain and reverence.

Heat coiling in his gut, Erik delivers a loud final blow on Jellal's right thigh, and Jellal actually moans. His cock sits heavy against his stomach now, almost fully hard, and Erik can't help his eyes from slinking down.

"You're hard," he says, voice rougher than he himself was expecting.

Jellal nods, panting slightly. He looks a little out of it. "Yeah. Yeah."

Erik, feeling indescribably bold, traces the edge of the paddle against Jellal's cock; his hips buck at the sensation, and Erik is shocked by the absolute thrill that goes through him.

"Can I get you off?" he asks quietly, hand shaking with excitement as he sets the paddle down.

"Please," Jellal says, pushing up his hips; it's much more forward than Erik was expecting, but he finds he loves it.

He nods, his own body going warm with a foggy anticipation, and he spits into his palm. He wraps a careful hand around Jellal, stroking softly, watching as the man pushes into his hand.

"Don't get too excited now," Erik teases, and Jellal's face actually goes red.

He strokes a bit harder, and Jellal lets out a groan deep in is throat, rigid in Erik's palm, starting to leak. Erik can see the man's body tensing; he's incredibly worked up, and Erik can hear the blood pulsing in his veins, the muscles twitching, building, and on a whim, he stops.

Jellal; if Erik's ears are correct, which they usually are; whimpers.

"Color?" Erik asks, breathless.

"Green," Jellal groans, hips pushing up from the bed. "Please."

Erik begins to move his hand again, his own cock pushing against his fly. He speeds up, until Jellal is bucking up into his hand, chest and face gone entirely red, and when Erik hears the air start to leave Jellal's breath in a moan, he slows. Jellal chokes on the breath he was about to let out.

"Please," and he's slurring now, out of it. "Please, sir."

Erik is struck by the overwhelming urge to fuck him hard; and it isn't the first time. He saves that thought, and its possible implications, for later.

"You want me to let you cum?" Erik pants, and he thumbs at the head of Jellal's cock, feeling wild and animalistic; bigger than his own body.

"Yessir," Jellal keens, teeth worrying his lip.

Erik grips him hard and strokes harder, squeezing the silky flesh, and Jellal's head tosses; he pants against the headboard. Erik strokes him like this several times, and he slows just when Jellal's hips begin to buck again.

"Please, please, please," Jellal slurs, panting hard. Erik is leaking against his trousers.

"I suppose you've been good," he says, voice soft with depth, and he takes a moment to take in Jellal's strained, desperate form for a before speeding up his hand again.

Jellal lets out a breathy moan, high-pitched. "Yes, yessir," his voice climbs, bucking into Erik's hand, and the dragon slayer works him faster. "Oh, please; gods yes, sir, _please, oh--_ "

Jellal's mouth opens wide as he cums over himself, striping his stomach, and Erik gives a greedy lick of his lips. There's a good amount, Erik having built him up quite a bit. Jellal sighs out long as he slumps against the headboard, looking dazed.

"Color?" Erik pants, but his hand is cupping himself through his trousers.

"Green, so fucking green," Jellal mumbles. "Do you need..?" His words are still slurred, but a little attentiveness returns to his eyes.

"No, I'll just--" Erik pulls out his cock, his hand still slick with Jellal's spend, and he begins to stroke himself. Jellal watches him quietly, and Erik finds himself getting off on it, skin hot and sensitive with excitement. He strokes quickly and cums within a minute, spilling all over Jellal's torso. He groans into his orgasm, elation sparking in the base of his neck and into the crown of his head.

He lets the pleasure settle back down in his body, gives himself a moment to breathe, and cracks open an eye to see Jellal giving him a small grin. Something hard hits him in the chest when he sees Jellal covered in cum, parts of his thighs gone purple-red in bruises just beginning to form, and he swallows.

"Fuck," he says.

Jellal gives a small chuckle, and hums.

Erik blinks, his stomach squirming as he realizes just how much he's utterly enjoyed himself, and he feels; disgusted. The hitting, the dangly orgasm just over Jellal's head, coming all over the man; he'd loved every minute of it. His hands start to shake.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and it sounds stupid when Jellal is barely suppressing a grin, but he can't help it.

"Of course," Jellal says, and Erik begins to untie him. "You?"

"Of course I'm fine, I was the one--"

Jellal gives him a look at this, one he doesn't understand.

"What?" Erik says.

Jellal begins to rub his wrists after the Erik releases the second, and the dragon slayer sits back on his heels. He feels nausea start to bubble up in his stomach at the red of Jellal's wrists, and glances down, but his eyes only land on the blossoming bruises.

"I feel like shit," he admits, giving in, and his chest feels like somebody is sitting on it.

Jellal looks up at him, concern contorting his face instantly. "Oh, Erik, I'm sorry. I thought maybe you could avoid the drop for a while longer, but it happens to all of us."

"It's- normal?" Erik asks, even though he feels like he can't breathe. "You just feel like shit afterwards?"

"Only sometimes," Jellal says softly. "And really, it's usually the person subbing. But you're new at this, so it's not surprising you're feeling it."

Erik nods numbly, body feeling; wrong, somehow; he's not sure. "I feel sick," he says, licking his lips absently, hands still shaking.

Jellal leans forward, grasping Erik's hands to steady them. "Erik. I enjoyed myself; very much, in fact. You didn't do anything I didn't want. I'm absolutely fine."

Erik tries to nod, shoulders feeling heavy. "I feel-- I feel bad I liked it."

"That's okay," Jellal says softly. "You didn't do anything wrong, but it's okay to feel a bit of guilt. Just know there's nothing to really feel guilty about."

"What do you do?" Erik asks, looking up a little desperately. "To make it go away?"

"Well, everybody's different," Jellal says. "But why don't we start by showering?"  
_______________

Erik gladly washes off the sweat and guilt he feels is somehow swathed on his skin; he tries to keep his sight above the waist as to avoid looking at Jellal's now deeply purpled thighs. Looking at his face helps, and Jellal reassures him with small soft smiles.

Erik feels more of the guilt wash away with the cum scrubbed off Jellal's torso; some of the evidence disappears. He washes Jellal's back, the man giving an amused turn of his lips as the water wets his blue hair, which was previously sweat-slicked against his forehead.

When they exit, they eat a bit of meat out of Jellal's icebox; Erik finds himself starving. His spirits lift a bit more once his stomach is full, although now he simply feels empty and tired.

"You should stay in my bed tonight," Jellal says quietly, wrapped in a loose robe as they sit at the table. "Unless you need space; time to yourself."

Erik isn't sure, honestly; but standing in the shower and soaking up the heat of Jellal's skin had made everything feel better for just a moment, so he agrees.

He lies beside Jellal in his underwear; the man had changed the sheets before crawling in bed; it is soft and cool and Erik feels his chest deflate, much less tight. The dark is comforting and heavy.

"Why can't I ever hear your thoughts?" he asks quietly, hoping Jellal isn't yet asleep.

A moment, and then Jellal says, "I keep my mental shields up pretty well."

Erik digests this; the man is controlled, even at his most vulnerable. Of course he is. Erik knows that defensive nature all too well; he sees it in himself.

"Sometimes I can't hear you when you whisper to yourself, either," he comments.

"That's because it's in Latin," Jellal says, and Erik can hear a wry smile behind the words.

"Ah. That would explain it."

He falls asleep with an arm slung around Jellal's waist, body and mind finally beginning to truly settle back into equilibrium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dom drop is shitty but I think it's an important process for anybody who doms to go through. You have to learn how to be able to work through that guilt; whether it comes from your own confusion over the fact that you didn't actually do anything wrong, or from feeling taboo for having desires not deemed appropriate by the social climate you live in.


End file.
